Page 97 of Magical Mischief

Low, warm, full-bodied humming, like a hundred voices singing just below hearing. The kind of sound that anchored you.

The feeling of joy that threaded itself through your ribs and your blood and reminded you what it meant to be held and cared for while you nurtured your soul.

The leaves fluttered in sync, subtle and sure, as though they were keeping time. As though the tree itself was singing.

I stepped forward, barely breathing. Tears had already started slipping down my cheeks, and I didn’t bother wiping them away.

It wasn’t sadness.

It wasn’t even relief.

It was beauty. Raw, unguarded beauty, the kind that sneaks past all the armor and lands right in the softest part of you.

Bella stood beside me, mouth slightly open, hands at her sides like she didn’t know what to do with them. My grandma stood behind us in quiet, her eyes damp with happiness.

“This,” she said gently, “is how the Ward used to sound.”

I turned toward her, blinking. “It used to…singlike this?”

She nodded. “Years ago. The Maple hummed day and night before the fading began, when all the Wards were strong. Not loud—never loud. But steady. Its rhythm kept the protective chants of the Academy fortified. The songs woven into the very walls relied on that hum. It was the pulse. You could sense the melody if you touched the cottage walls at any time.”

“The Stone Ward? My cottage?”

She nodded.

“And now it’s back,” Bella whispered, eyes still fixed on the branches.

“It’s weak, but it’s remembering. It’s trying.” My grandma’s lips pressed together as if she were worried about believing in its strength too soon.

I moved closer to the sapling. It leaned slightly toward me. Just a touch. Just enough to be felt.

“It’s listening,” I murmured. “You are strong and you are sure, little sapling.”

My grandma stepped beside me and placed a hand on the trunk of the great maple. “You gave it what it needed. The nourishment spell, the care. And maybe more than that… you heard it. Before anyone else could.”

I knelt again by the sapling. The glow coming off it wasn’t bright, but it was warm. It didn’t push. It invited.

“You’re doing it,” I said to the tree, the Ward, and whatever force was listening. “You’re growing.”

The humming shifted slightly. It rose and dipped with a musical lilt like a sigh of agreement.

Bella let out a soft laugh. “I can’t believe I was scared to be trapped by maples. It feels like being wrapped in a lullaby now.”

Elira looked at me with something close to awe.

“It’s rare, you know,” she said. “To witness a Ward coming back to life.”

I nodded, still swiping away happy tears.

“I think it wants to live,” I said. “And maybe it’s tired of being forgotten.”

The song continued.

Soft.

Constant.

Alive.